


coming out of my cage (and I’ve been doing just fine)

by mediwitch3



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24881812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediwitch3/pseuds/mediwitch3
Summary: Michael turns, sees a tall man in a pale blue button-down offering him a small smile. Michael forces a smile onto his own face.
Relationships: Michael Grant & Bobby Nash (9-1-1 TV), Michael Grant/Bobby Nash
Comments: 13
Kudos: 59





	coming out of my cage (and I’ve been doing just fine)

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @michaelgrantnash

Some things are easier said than done. After Glenn leaves and Athena’s settled with Aaron, Michael can’t help wondering if this was all worth it. Blowing up his family so he could start living for the first time, for someone who isn’t even around anymore. He wonders some days if he shouldn’t have just kept his mouth shut.

He definitely doesn’t want to be here, at Hen’s birthday party, with a bunch of people he barely knows. He knows it was a pity invite, because Hen is Athena’s friend before she’s his, but she feels some kind of...solidarity? She promised him he wouldn’t get left behind.

He leans against the wall, nursing his drink. It’s some fruity thing Karen made up with a punny name he can’t remember, in honor of Hen, and he’s not sure he likes it but at least it’s something to occupy his hands.

“You’re Michael, right?”

Michael turns, sees a tall man in a pale blue button-down offering him a small smile. Michael forces a smile onto his own face.

“That’s me,” Michael says, and offers his hand to shake, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I’m Bobby,” he says, “Hen’s captain.”

“Oh right,” Michael nods, taking his hand back, “she’s mentioned you.”

“Good things, I hope,” Bobby smiles. Michael can’t quite decide what color Bobby’s eyes are, and he’s not sure they can either, somewhere between brown and grey.

“Yeah, good things,” Michael says.

—

If he’s being honest, Michael knows why he volunteered to chaperone Harry’s field trip to the fire station. It wasn’t because Athena was working, or because no one else volunteered. It was because right now, Bobby stands in front of him in his uniform, and Michael isn’t sure he can breathe.

“So if you need us, what are the three numbers you need to know?” Bobby cups a hand to his ear exaggeratedly and smiles broadly.

The class chants “911!” back to him at a decible only fifth graders can reach, and Bobby claps his hands, eyes shining.

“Great job! Alright, who wants to see the trucks?”

The screech of chairs on the floor fills the room, echoing off the high vaulted ceilings as the kids make a mad dash for the trucks. Several members of Bobby’s team follow, explaining animatedly the parts of the trucks the kids are looking at. Michael watches Harry grin up at Hen, who’s come down to join them after the demonstration, and startles at a hand on his elbow.

He turns to see Bobby’s grin directed at him, soft eyes crinkled by crows feet. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Yeah, uh,” Michael swallows, “it’s my son, Harry’s, class and they needed chaperones.”

Bobby shakes his head a little, still smiling. “I’m glad you could make it. It’s nice to see a familiar face.”

Michael sends up a quick ’thank you’ for his dark complexion as his face heats, knows he’s blushing because he’s out of practice, dammit, and there’s no way of knowing where this is actually going. He knows where he wants it to go.

“... get a beer sometime?” Michael tunes back in to the tail end of Bobby’s question, heart skipping a beat. Bobby’s hand is still on his elbow.

“Oh,” Michael says, and blinks. Bobby waves his free hand around, his cheeks a little pink.

“It’s just—hard to meet people my age, you know?” He grins sheepishly, “been in LA over a year and don’t have any friends outside the firehouse.”

Friends. “Oh,” Michael says again. He shifts a little on his feet, and Bobby’s hand drops to his side, leaving Michael’s elbow cold. “Sure, that would be nice.”

—

It’s dark in the bar, and loud, people milling around and shouting as some nondescript pop song plays over the speakers. Michael has to squint a bit in the low light, but he finds Bobby fairly easily and makes his way over to the standing table he’s stationed at.

Bobby smiles when Michael reaches him, his teeth glinting in the light of the lamp two tables down. “Hey, glad you could make it!”

Michael offers him a smile. “What are you drinking? I’ll buy the next round.”

“That’s kind of you,” Bobby says, shaking his head, “I already opened a tab, though. Order what you like.”

Michael does, when the waitress comes back over, and leans against the table so he can hear Bobby better. Bobby leans over too, and as conversation flows, their faces get closer and closer, until Michael’s almost cross-eyed trying to look Bobby in the eye.

Michael startles when the bartender calls ‘last call’, not realising how long they’ve been talking. It’s late, and he’s barely had anything to drink but he feels drunk. Bobby looks a bit dazed too, straightens and hails the waitress to settle their tab.

They walk out together, quiet for the first time that evening, and Bobby walks him over to his car. Michael pauses, glances up from his keys as Bobby clears his throat. He looks anxious, shifting from foot to foot and pale in the moonlight. Michael raises a brow, heart beating just a step too fast.

“Is everything okay?” He asks. Bobby nods, and his Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he says, “I just, um.”

Michael waits a beat, but Bobby seems frozen. “You just what?”

Bobby shakes his head, as if to dispel cobwebs. “I was wondering if I could—this may be too forward, but—would it be okay if I kissed you?”

Michael stalls, brain going blank. He nods, on autopilot, and Bobby swallows again as he leans forward.

The minute their mouths touch Michael inhales, smells Bobby’s cologne and the beer he was drinking, and his eyes slip closed. Bobby lingers, then presses in again, more firmly this time, and Michael takes a step back til his back hits the car. His hands loosen around his keys, lets them fall to the ground with a clatter so he can bring his hands up to Bobby’s face, cradle his cheeks and slide his tongue between his lips.

The kiss comes to its natural end, slowing to lingering touches until it stops, and Bobby leans his forehead to Michael’s.

“I’ll call you,” Bobby says. Michael nods, and Bobby leans in for one last kiss before he pulls away to go to his car. He turns back once to throw a dorky wave over his shoulder, and Michael can’t help but smile.


End file.
